An Unlikely Rendezvous
by nibo
Summary: They stand beneath her window every night, watching a woman they cannot have. But, graduation is closing in and soon it will be too late! Will either man do something about his love? Or will they sit by and watch as the love of their lives walks away with
1. Introduction

**Rendezvous**

This story is based on a set of drabbles originally written for the LiveJournal community a href" http/community. It's a reworking of a set of drabbles that were on my site already once and have been removed due to the duplication of story content. However, all those stories are linked through my own LiveJournal at a href" http/ "Rendezous" drabble series /a .

Also, this story is rated M for a reason. Nothing is explicit, but please know that it deals with adult content. Don't read if you intend to flame for those reasons.

As always, nothing belongs to me, no matter how much I'd like it to!

So, what are you waiting for? Go read!


	2. Fancy Meeting You Here

**Fancy Meeting You Here**

Ron stood on a hillock on the grounds of Hogwarts School. It was cold out that night, just stepping into March. Spring was coming, but it definitely wasn't there yet. He pulled his robes closer around his body and looked up, focusing on the candlelight glowing in a window on the third floor.

Despite his better judgement, he came out here almost every night to watch. Something in the act made Ron feel almost dirty, like he was tainting himself. That didn't stop him, though. Despite the taint, he still came to this mound of earth to look up into her window.

He watched Harry take her into his arms, holding close the beautiful woman that his friend was becoming. Despite what the Slytherin girls said about her, Hermione had come into her own last year and was now one of the most attractive girls in Seventh Year.

Ron watched his best friend hold Hermione close. He was the one who got to have her, got to touch her. Ron, however, counted himself lucky. At least he got to spend the days with his goddess. He pitied the man who invariably joined him on that spot each night, "Fancy meeting you here, again."

Ron's sometime companion looked up as he joined the younger man on his vantage point. With a wry smile, Severus turned his eyes to the window as well. They stood there, side by side, watching the woman they both desired go to bed with another man.

For Hermione, though, it was different. When she was with Harry, she was quiet. All he'd come to expect from her was a contented smile and the exhalation of pleasure. She knew that to him they were meant to be together. He'd told her time and time again that he couldn't, no, wouldn't imagine his life without her in it. They were perfect for each other, meant for each other. He told her that every night and she still didn't believe it.

Hermione's head turned to the side, her eyes straying to the ground. Giving Harry access to her neck like that meant that there'd be marks to remove in the morning. He liked claiming her as his own in that way and often seemed to wish she'd do the same.

She could see them, standing on that hillock, watching. They were always there, _he _was always there, watching her. He'd never asked her, though. He'd never mentioned it once.

Pushing the disappointment back, she turned to the man in her arms, in her bed. Hermione leaned up and kissed Harry gently on the cheek before laying back and giving herself to him. She gave herself to _him _because he'd told her he wanted her. He was the only man who _had_ told her that he wanted her.

Severus' own eyes turned away from the window, the ugly look turned upon Ron, "Enough, Weasley. This is just sick. She deserves better and you know it."

Ron nodded, vision still fixed on the window, "Than him?"

Severus' eyes became sharp as he looked over at the tall redhead, "Than us, standing here, watching them. It's disgusting and it's enough. No more." Turning from the spot, the Potions Master stalked back to the castle, furious with himself for having come back out, again.

Ron smiled wryly at his Professor as the man walked off. It wasn't enough, it was never enough and they both knew it. Neither of them could get enough of her, particularly when they were both barred from her. They both knew the dark man would be back the next night and the one after that.


	3. Concern

_**Concern**_

Of course Ron had been right, he was always right. Severus hated himself for standing on the hillock again, watching her on his own for the first time. Weasley wasn't there in the darkness with him to share his self-loathing. Alone, for the first time, Severus looked up at the window: watching her, listening to her silence, and wanting her so badly it hurt. He was tired of the hurt, the pain that she gave him, but he couldn't bear to give it up. Pain, after all, is better than nothing.

Hermione looked out the window. Her eyes sought out the figure who was so black that the night seemed grey as it wrapped itself around him. He was standing there as usual, seeming to take up more space than was possible for one man to.

Severus could feel her eyes lock onto him. He would look away from the window when she turned back to her lover, as she always did. He would go home, return to his dungeons and sit there, in the enveloping darkness. He'd leave when she looked away…

…but she didn't, not tonight. Tonight she stared at him as Harry moved above her and Severus became rooted to the spot, fixed with her stare. What eventually shook him from his stupor, his fixation, was not her eventual refusal to look away, but the scream that rent the night, penetrating his darkness.

**------------------------------------------------------**

The next morning, however, Severus was left pacing. The scream from the night before had signalled not only the awakening of several Hufflepuff in their cellar dormitory, but also something that left both Professor Snape and the rest of the Seventh Year shocked and appalled.

Finally being allowed admission, Severus stalked into the circular office stopping just short of Dumbledore's desk, "Headmaster, I demand that someone be sent to check on the wellbeing of Hermione Granger, immediately."

Dumbledore, in his most serious manner, raised an eyebrow and looked at the Potions Master, "And why would that be, _Professor_ Snape?"

Of course Dumbledore would do his best to remind Severus of his place in the castle. He was a Professor and, as such, not allowed to fraternise with the students. The Headmaster, as always, knew everything that went on in the school, presumably including both Hermione and Severus' nightly rendezvous.

The older man gazed over his half-moon spectacles at Snape who was fuming, "Because, Sir, she has failed to attend any of her classes today."

A half hour later, Lavender Brown was dispatched to Hermione's room to make sure that her fellow Gryffindor was alright.

"Don't be anxious, Severus. It isn't becoming." Dumbledore's eyes held no pity for the Potion's Master and his voice betrayed no pity for the man, "Go back to your dungeons, Professor Snape. Hermione Granger is of no great concern to you." With a meaningful and warning look, Severus Snape was dismissed from the Headmaster's office.

Turning, Severus walked from the room, billowing as much as he dared under Dumbledore's watchful eye. Potter had also skived off his classes with Snape, but the Potions Master did not feel himself pressed to report this to the Headmaster. Truth be told, Severus was already regretting going to the Headmaster about Hermione's absences. Dumbledore knew too much as it was.

The students who had been appalled with the Potion Master's mood in his morning classes suddenly counted themselves lucky when the afternoon students spread horror stories of their ow. As the afternoon progressed, Snape's mood became blacker than the cauldrons he watched over so carefully, taking point from all houses, including his own. Even the other teachers steered clear, leaving a chair-wide berth on either side of him during lunch.

Those who knew Snape and had overheard the earlier conversation between Lavender and Parvati, as he had, may have understood his dark mood:

"He really, finally did it? Just last night?"

"That's what Hermione said. Oh, isn't it romantic?"

"She's such a lucky girl. Imagine! Hermione Granger engaged to Harry Potter!"

The next afternoon the shock still hadn't worn off. _She's Engaged_. Potter was sitting in his usual seat in the back, although Hermione was nowhere to be seen.

As he walked by the tables in the back, Severus couldn't keep the blood from rising as he heard Potter whispering with Weasley, an insufferable smirk plastered across his face, "It was completely brilliant! You know how I told you that she's usually real quiet? Well, that's how I knew that things had changed last night. So I asked her and she agreed." _She Engaged_.

Ron's eyes turned to the Professor as he was looming over the table, ostensibly checking the consistency of their potions. Severus noted a blank, almost dead look in the other man's eyes.

With a well placed sneer to cover his lingering, Snape turned his dark mood on Harry, "Ten points from Gryffindor, Potter. There will be no whispering in my class." Suddenly pretending to notice that Hermione was not to be seen, he added, "And another ten for Ms. Granger's absence. I will no accept skiving in _my_ N.E.W.T. class." _She's Engaged. _With a swirl of his robes, Snape returned to his desk, letting the hardness of his eyes cover the emptiness he was feeling.

That night, however, Severus returned to the hillock, nearly making himself sick with his own actions. He couldn't believe he was allowing himself to come out here again, to once again override his sense of decency. A cloaked figure loomed ahead of his, standing on their bare mound of earth. With a curt nod, Severus acknowledged Ron.

It was Hermione's hand, however, that pulled back the hood. Her face shone pale and blank in the moonlight, revealing no emotion.

Severus' eyes grew cold, "Why _him_, Hermione? Why Potter?"

One of Hermione's eyebrows went up, "I thought that would be obvious. I chose Harry, of course, because he asked me."

Snape scowled, "I didn't think you wanted him." The inflection of his voice intended to remind her of the other night as she lay in her own bed and watched him watching her.

"I would think that you of all people understood the difference between knowing what you want, Severus, and reaching out to take it with both hands."

He wasn't going to let her lecture him on taking what he wanted. Moving right in close to her, Severus laid a cold hand on her shoulder and looked down into her dark eyes, "Tell me you're happy, Hermione."

He could see it happen as if in slow motion. The mask she wore in the school slipped perfectly into place. She was suddenly Hermione Granger: perfect student, Head Girl, and Harry Potter's fiancé, "Goodness, Professor Snape, of course I'm happy! I thought everyone had heard. I know that at least three of the Hufflepuff fourth years _heard_ the other night." She batted her eyelashes, incensing the Potions Master, making him want to hit her, curse her, anything to take that mask off her face.

A wicked, cold look stole over his features as Severus went in for the kill, "Then why is it that you can only scream for him when you're looking down at me?"

Hermione's features iced over. She moved away from his as if burned, "Don't ever touch me again, Severus."

Snape's hand flew out and gripped her bicep tightly, pulling her body flush against his own, "Oh, I don't know Hermione. I have a funny feeling you don't really mean that." He pressed his body roughly into her own, "You _want_ me to touch you."

Hermione's hands found purchase on his chest and she shoved him back, hard. Disgust was written plainly on both their faces. _Want_ had nothing to do with this, "Good-bye, Professor." She reached back and pulled the hood over her head, turning her back on him and walking to the castle.

As he watched her retreat, Severus imagined himself reaching out to her and taking hold of her arm (gently this time). He'd pull her back and tell her, finally. He'd tell her how much he needed her, loved her. He'd tell Hermione anything to keep her from returning to that dorm room and letting Potter violate her again. He knew that she would not look for him from her bedroom window tonight or any other night, not again.

However, Severus just stood there, watching her walk away from him again, feeling something inside of him tear.


	4. Happiest Day of Their Lives

_**Happiest Day of Their Lives**_

As the end of semester neared, neither mentioned that talk or that night. Hermione had returned to classes the next morning. She continued to receive her customary "O"s without as much as a glance at him.

Severus, for his own part, had ceased to watch her from his hillock and the Hufflepuffs were not again awakened by late-night screams of undying passion. Severus spent his nights holed up in his dungeons either working on some experiment or curled up, losing himself in bottles of Dreamless Sleep.

As term came to a close and the Seventh Years prepared for graduation, all of Hogwarts School and grounds were garlanded in white and blue: Harry Potter intended to marry his fiancé on campus and asked Dumbledore to give her away.

Although Hermione spent the last few weeks of term showing off the large diamond in her engagement ring and telling anyone who would listen how inconceivably happy she was to be getting married, Harry had complaints, "I don't know, Ron. Lately is seems that whenever we're together she's somehow distant." He looked down and shook his head, "Even when we make love these days, she's not really there, you know?" He was confused and wanted nothing more than to see his fiancé happy.

Ron just shook his head, listening in a silence that Harry didn't understand. Later that evening, though, the redhead made a command, and perhaps idiotic, decision. It was the only path he had left. There was no way that he, Ron Weasley, was going to sit by and watch the woman of his dreams be unhappy. Not if he could actually do something about it.

Late that night, Ron stood in the dungeons, rapping loudly at the door to Severus' private quarters. They opened slowly with a low creak (Snape, always one for the theatrical, had a tendency to scare away houseelves who tried to oil them) and the Potions Master peered icily out at the man who had disturbed his evening, "What is it, _Weasley_?"

Ron sneered, "She's getting married tomorrow, you idiot."

Snape sneered before affecting a sickly sweet smile, "Yes, I know. She's tying herself forever more to the hero, Harry Potter! She's so _happy_!" He batted his eyelashes once or twice before letting the act fall.

Ron tried to hard to fight it down, but the reasoning was gone. He'd already graduated, by Merlin! He didn't have to worry about house points or upsetting a professor. None of it mattered anymore and this was far more important!

Severus gingerly fingered what would be a black eye tomorrow if he didn't mend it. He watched Weasley walk away, throwing harsh, cold words over his shoulder at his once-Professor, "You're in love with her, you bloody ponce. So do something about it before it gets too late."

Hours later, Severus allowed himself to seek out Poppy's assistance with the black eye, but he still didn't sleep well. Snape had foregone the use of Dreamless Sleep for the first time in weeks.

The next morning, the Potions Master pulled on light robes and headed toward the third floor single room set aside for the Gryffindor Head Girl, thankful for the first time in his life that Potter believed in muggle customs. Severus knew that Hermione would be locked in her room for the majority of the day, fretting and preparing for the wedding. After all, it's bad luck to see the bride…

Severus' knuckled met the door, rapping on it and listening to the sound carry into the inner rooms. Hermione answered the door, hair limp and still wet from her recent shower, her face warm, her colour high, and her features set in stone, "What do you want, Severus?"

_It's bad luck to see the bride…_

One of his hands found her shoulder as he pressed his way into her rooms, invading her space and slamming the door behind him. With the strength of his body, Severus shoved her smaller frame against the wall, "I want you, Hermione." Instinctively, his mouth found hers and sealed it tight with his own. His hands fumbled in her robes, trying desperately to separate them from her body.

Hermione let herself be taken over with his power. She pressed her own back against the wall, revelling in the feeling of finally having his hands on her body.

He broke the kiss long enough to look down at her, "Please, I need you." He then found her lips again, one of his hands bunching in her thick, brown hair, the other roaming the curves of her body.

Harry, however, stood quietly in the door that neither of them had seen open again.

_It's bad luck to see the bride_… particularly when she's happy in the arms of another man.

He stood there watching them until he couldn't take it anymore. Hermione and Severus were so wrapped up in one another that they never noticed him.

"Come away with me, Hermione." Harry watched his professor's lips leave a wet trail of kisses over his fiancé's face and the top of her chest.

_Say No._

She wasn't really reacting to him. She was standing there, letting him have his way with her. She wasn't encouraging him, but then, she wasn't yelling, demanding that he get his hands off of her. _Say No_.

"Please, Hermione." Severus pleaded with her between kisses, "I need you." He kissed her again, leaving a searing mark above her collarbone, "I'll wait for you in the Hog's Head. Come to me."

That's when Harry closed his eyes and turned, stealing out of the room as quietly as he had come. He was not willing to let himself stand there and listen to the woman he loved agree to leave with another man. Not on his wedding day.

Moments later, Severus tore himself away from her. His eyes held the promise of things to come, if she would only turn and follow him, "I'll wait for you." He left her rooms, the end of his black robes whipping through the door as he closed it.

She took a deep breath, her mind suddenly racing. His stride had betrayed his confidence in himself, in her. He thought she would join him, was convinced of it. However, the Head Girl hadn't agreed to anything. She's stood there and accepted his kisses, felt them, heard the words as they hung in the air around her, _Leave Him_. She couldn't. _I need you, I want you_. That was all well and good, but 'need' and 'want' weren't love.

Hermione walked to the bed and fingered the material of her veil. The sheer, white fabric that had been sewn up specifically for her wedding day sat there and stared at her. She picked the delicate object up, sadly, _This is how the story's supposed to go… right?_

Half an hour later, Mendelssohn played across Hogwarts ground and Harry thrilled inside. She really did want him. She'd chosen him!

At the same time, sitting in the gloomy pub in Hogsmeade, Professor Severus Snape, Hogwarts Potions Master, ordered another firewhiskey as he realised that she wasn't coming. She'd chosen Potter over him.

Ron, on the other hand, felt sick to his stomach. He sat there watching her say "I do" without any protest or signs of repentance. He stole her away later that afternoon and he'd forced the necessary information out of her, "What have you done? What are you doing _here_? Where _is_ he, Hermione?"

She smiled in a mindless sort of way, "Oh, Severus? He's in the Hogs Head, waiting." She looked around, focusing on the trees and the filmy decorations from the wedding, anywhere but on Ron.

He, however, grabbed her shoulders, forcing her to look at him, "Why did you do it, Hermione? You gave your-fucking-self away to _Harry_! You're not in love with Harry!"

Hermione stepped back, suddenly both defensive and coldly furious, "I know that, Ron, but _he's_ in love with _me_."

"No, Hermione." Ron shook his head, his eyes flashing ire at the woman in front of him, "_Snape_ is in love with you.

Quickly, the mask slipped back over her features, obscuring her from Ron, "Well, thank you for your worry, Ron. But, I'm very happy." That horrible, fake smile parted her lips as she turned from him and hurried back to her new husband.


	5. Antics

(Warning: If you like Hermione too much, don't read any farther. I've heard enough times over this story that I paint her as too weak and pathetic. This isn't a pretty story and it wasn't meant to be. Also, this is where _An Unexpected Rendezvous _begins to deserve its "M" rating.)

* * *

_**Antics**_

It was well known that the Minister of Magic was putting pressure on the Daily Prophet of late. Rita Skeeter might not be working for them anymore, but that wouldn't stop the Prophet from printing a juicy story when they got it. But, really, what was there to gain from embarrassing Harry Potter by publishing the antics of his wife?

Despite the Minister's best efforts, the stories leaked out somehow. These stories always did; it was impossible to keep something like this under wraps. Read All About It or not, everyone somehow knew the rumours, whether they believed them or not: Mrs. Potter was depressive; Mrs. Potter was addicted to Polyjuice Potion; Mrs. Potter was trying to kill herself.

In the privacy of his own dungeons, however, Severus Snape refused to believe the hype. Hermione wasn't weak like that, no matter what she had let happen. She was the one who had chosen Potter last year. It was the life she had wanted! Why would she try to escape that, why would she want to? That wasn't how the story went.

Hermione had seen the girl leaving the dressing room, was sure what she'd find there when she went to look. She stepped into the curtained alcove in a shop in the middle of Muggle London. Quickly searching for the object of her desires, she rose up with a long, thin strand of orange hair. Perfect.

Hours later she walked through a seedy bar in one of the darker parts of London, wearing the face of a girl she'd never met, long orange hair hanging down to her waist, and chatting up some guy she'd never see again. Everything was just the way she wanted it, just the way she liked it.

Somewhere during the first months of married life, Mrs. Granger-Potter had perfected Polyjuice Potion. By asserting her own intellect and potions prowess over the problem, she'd managed to create a version of it that would allow her to stay shifted twice as long and the transformation no longer offered its bone-melding, horrifically painful sensations.

She always liked the escape she could find from her life in these bars, wearing another's visage. She liked being the flirt she never was, liked playing the seductress. She'd dazzle them, drag them upstairs to a still seedier bedroom, and lose herself in them before returning home to England's champion Seeker as he got home after long practices. Strangely enough, Hermione's 'random' pick of men always seemed to sport long, dark hair and sour temperaments. That, of course, was pure coincidence.

Severus also had formed a habit of hanging about in Muggle London during the school holidays. He spent his evenings and nights in the local pubs, picking up women and bringing them back to his flat. He'd take them to his bed, one at a time, any night of the week. Severus would fuck any woman who wasn't curvy, perky, and bushy-haired. Anything and anyone to get _her_ out of his brain and out of his blood. It never worked.

Over the summer, Snape had become used to waking up beside women he barely knew in his bed. He'd order them out on his way to the shower. They were never there by the time he returned. Therefore, he wasn't in any way prepared for the night he took to his bed a woman with hair the colour of tangerines and woke up next to Hermione Granger-Potter.

He glowered over at her, feeling betrayed and angry. She'd known it was him, known who she was sleeping with and never told him it was her.

Hermione pouted in a kittenish sort of way, "Aww, Sev. Not happy to see me, baby?" Giggling softly, she stood up, leaving the bed sheets behind, and headed toward the shower, shouting over her shoulder, "I like tea and toast with strawberry jam, lover."

Severus had no idea how to deal with the woman who was so different from the girl he had known. He gaped at her retreating back as she disappeared into his bathroom. He heard the shower begin running.

Hermione's hands slid through her hair, making sure it was wet the whole way through. She could feel last night's exertions washing off her body, cleansing her. Hands pressed roughly against her back, pushing her into the wall. She grinned and closed her eyes, "Up for round two then, love?"

Severus could almost hear her smirk. He leaned forward, lips right beside her ear, "You're playing a dangerous game here, Mrs. Potter."

Hermione smiled and turned around, letting him press her into the wall with his body, "Yeah, but it's fun." She sealed his mouth with her own, one of her legs wrapping up over his hip. His smooth, bare chest pressed hard against her. She'd feel his teeth on her body for days afterwards.

Severus growled. _She wants you_. He gave her no choice this time. He was in control and, for the moment, that was the way she wanted it. _Potter can't satisfy her_. As if in another life, Severus could feel himself taking her against the shower wall, for once glad of the no-slide decals he'd placed on the tile floor.

She was far more lustful than he remembered her, far more emotive. She was playing a part, but for now he didn't care, "Look at me, Mrs.Potter. You chose _me_ this time, so look at me." His voice came out as a growl.

She looked down at him, staring into his eyes, "Come on, lover. Make me scream! You've done it before." She grinned wickedly.

He didn't want to see her like this. This wasn't the Hermione he wanted. Minutes later Snape left the shower, clean but frustrated. This wasn't what he wanted. Not like this.

Soon after, Hermione followed him out, hair wet from the shower. She was wearing his black, button up shirt and little else.

A piece of toast popped up and she grabbed the still-hot piece of bread before he could get to it, rooting in his refrigerator for jam. She spread the strawberry paste across her toast and bit in, moaning softly.

Hermione walked to the kitchen table and sat down on it, her feet planted on two chairs, leaving her legs spread wide. Slowly, teasingly she ate the toast, moaning far more than was warranted by the burnt half-wheat and jam.

Snape tried not to look at her, to ignore her, but he was aching and it reminded him that she was sitting there, practically asking for it.

She finished her toast and licked off each of her fingers, ending with the middle one which she deep throated for his amusement and memory, "Come on, love." She reached out and drew him close to her. He wasn't wearing anything except black jeans, which she quickly did away with, he wasn't really sure how.

He could feel her soft hands. She was such a tease. Severus growled again, "Stop that, you whore." He hated hearing himself call her that.

Hermione just giggled again, horribly, "Aww, you don't mean that, do you?"

A man's self-control can only last for so long, and Hermione made sure that his broke quickly. Severus let himself call her all the things he'd thought since first seeing her face in his bed that morning. He called her a whore; he called her weak and said she disgusted him. Somehow, strewn across his kitchen table, it only excited her more.

When they were finished, he went into his room, cleaned himself up, and gathered her clothes. Severus dumped them on the table and told her to get out, saying again how much she disgusted him.

Wandering around in the kitchen later, ostensibly to make himself breakfast, Severus felt sick. He could feel the bile building in the pit of his stomach. This was wrong. No matter what anyone else thought, Snape had believed himself to be an honest man with at least a modicum of morality.

_She wanted it_. He looked around for coffee placed the old-fashioned percolator on the stove. Something about the out-dated, muggle device always calmed him a bit. _She begged for it. _He couldn't make the voice shut up. Sitting at the table, waiting for coffee to bubble, he held his head in his hands. _Potter can't satisfy her_.

Minutes later the coffee was finished and he stood up, pouring it into a cup without looking at it. Sinking back into his chair, sneering as much as he could muster, Severus noticed that his coffee bore a striking resemblance in taste and texture to percolated mud. He'd had his way with her, hadn't he? Wasn't that supposed to get her out of his system? He'd taken her in his bed the night before and then now, in the shower and across the kitchen table. Told her she was disgusting and threw her out.

Face again in his hands, a terrible, truthful voice perked up, _She was just playing with you_.

* * *

(This chapter was originally much more graphic when first written. For the longer, graphic version of this piece, just request it and I'll be happy to email it to you.) 


	6. Forgetting

_**Forgetting**_

No matter what his morality dictated, the next night Severus found himself prowling yet another club. Something in him needed to get Hermione's scent, her feel and taste, out of his system and off his skin. One way or another he was going to make himself forget her.

She'd been so pure once. She'd been exactly what he wanted: naïve and innocent. She'd been young and fresh, the whole world ahead of her. She was always looking to the future, always curious.

Something changed somewhere. About the same time she started going with Potter he'd noticed the change at school. She'd been quieter, more insular. She spent her time then only with her two friends.

Severus, like everyone else, had assumed that it was because of her parents. The two dentists had been killed in an arbitrary Death Eater raid. She wasn't even allowed to think that it could have been her fault. Whatever had gone through the girl's head, whatever she had made herself believe, it had corrupted her, turning her into what she was now: the thing he wanted to forget.

He skulked around the bar in a way that several women had told him was dark and mysterious. His eyes drifted across the writhing, sweating bodies on the dance floor. Some were closer now, grinding against each other, than they would be hours from now when one finally got tired of teasing and dragged their other off into a room and so that they might be fucked into unconsciousness.

In the middle of the floor, three men surrounding her, making a veritable wall around her, was a tall blonde. She was incredibly leggy and wearing practically nothing if you counted the halter top and leather skirt. Severus could see the bad techno pounding through her body, making her wet just from the attention. She was perfect. She, whoever she was, was exactly what he needed to get Hermione out of his system.

Severus elbowed his way onto the dance floor and claimed her from the midst of the other men. She'd be one of those women who, if you looked them deep in the eyes and admitted your extreme attraction and intense hard-on, would follow you straight home and jump into your bed. It wasn't like he hadn't met her kind before, he just always felt cheap after them. Tonight, for some reason, Severus needed to feel cheap and maybe just a little dirty.

Twenty minutes worth of whispering, grinding, and groping was all it took. She followed him outside and into a taxi. Her hands strayed into his lap time and time again during the ten minute ride back to his apartment. Severus spent his time concentrating on her, memorising the lines of her legs as they spread into her tight, pale thighs and the curve of her ample breasts as they filled and overfilled her shirt. He needed this.

Almost too soon, he found himself tumbling her into his bed without so much as a word. Of course, it wasn't like she'd complained. They hadn't even turned the lights on as he led her into the bedroom with its king-sized bed and black, cotton sheets. They'd need to be washed tomorrow.

Severus' had his way with her that night in the darkness of his rooms. It was rough and without emotion. The only sound was her cries through the shadows. This was not the kind of girl you wooed back to your place before making love to her in the candlelight. No, this was the woman you whispered dirty things to on a dance floor before getting a taxi so you could fuck her hard in the dark.

She, whoever she was, was responsive, ever so responsive. She moaned loudly as his bit her flesh, leaving marks. Her hands gripped hard at his shoulders, probably leaving marks of her own. The noise almost embarrassed him, knowing that he probably wasn't the best lay she'd ever had or would ever have. He was just some guy who needed a good fuck. She was just some chick who didn't care whose bed she slept in.

It didn't last long. Neither had come back here for a long, drawn out night. They needed the feeling of flesh to sate them. Snape rolled over and cleaned himself up with a towel from under the bed. He tossed it at his companion before closing his eyes and pretending to sleep. When he heard her own breathing deepen, the Potions Master pulled out his wand and cast an infertility charm on her. Last thing he needed was a palimony suit.

Hours later, Snape woke up, not sure if he felt better or worse after the night's activities. He did, like he'd thought he would, feel dirty. Severus looked down at the bed beside him and noticed that it was empty. All the better. Now he wouldn't feel like a heel as he kicked her out and headed into the bathroom. He always did, no matter how many times he did it.

Coming back from the shower, however, Severus saw something he hadn't noticed before: a makeshift card on the nightstand. It was just a piece of paper folded over with a bright red lipstick kiss on the front:

_Severus,  
Thanks, Again.  
-Hermione_

_P.S. I can do my own Infertilis Charm, but thanks anyway._


	7. Enjoying It

_**Enjoying It**_

Hermione sat back on the barstool, laughing softly to herself. She'd just seen him come into the bar and, if things went her way, it would prove to be an interesting night because of it. From her vantage point, Hermione could see an obscenely drunken woman stagger toward the Potions Master and try to chat him up. All she received for her troubles, however, was for the tall man to lean close and whisper something in her ear, which caused the woman to draw back and slap him (just before falling down in a dizzy heap).

Hermione spun amusedly on her stool. Tonight, she was short with razor cropped black hair spiked up the back. It was a good body; it felt good on her. She sat there for another half an hour, watching woman after woman approach him with the same intent, always making the first move. Hermione nursed a margarita as Severus continued to be slapped or rebuffed for whatever he was saying.

Mrs. Potter was perfectly happy to spend her evening brushing off men, drinking anything blended, and watching the Potions Master with interest. His continual search and failure amused her. After all, it wasn't like he was going to find her and she had six more hours of potion left in a flask in her cleavage.

After several hours of failing to find her, Severus slumped (gracefully) onto a barstool and ordered a gin and tonic from the bartender. God did he need it now. When the glass arrived, instead of drinking the liquor right away, Snape pressed the cold, condensation covered glass against his forehead and sighed happily. That was better.

A woman turned to him. She was several inches shorter than him, despite his slouch, and smiling, "Hey." The remains of a something strawberry were being nursed in her glass, "You look lonely…" One of her eyebrows went up as her eyes swept over him.

He looked her over closely, carefully. He took in the height, the hair, her demeanour, before leaning over and whispering softly into her ear, "Hermione?"

The woman laughed and shook her head, looking back at him with a wicked smile, "I don't know what you usually expect to hear, but you can call me anything you want, Babe." The woman leaned closer, chin resting on her hand, giving him an eyeful from the neck down, "Just make sure that you're screaming it by sunrise."

Severus smirked and shook his own head, _I might as well enjoy this while it lasts_. With that kind of invitation, it didn't take too long for the Potions Master to get her back to his apartment. During the ride back he kept her lips busy with his own. Locking the door behind himself, he grinned, "Don't want any disturbances, do we?"

The woman just laughed, "Definitely not, Babe." Severus grabbed her then and kissed her the whole way through his apartment. He stripped her clothes off carefully between hurried pecks.

Taking this woman to his bed was different than the blonde for a lot of reasons. Severus enjoyed her, made sure that she enjoyed herself. He was more tender with her, running his hands through her hair. They played with one another for almost an hour before finally falling upon one another and giving into lust.

Severus shuddered heavily as his hands slid through her hair, combing it out with his fingers, watching it lengthen and curl as it went. His hands slid down and rested on her hips as they moved, feeling them round out as her voice rose from a heavy, husky growl to a high, girlish scream of pleasure. "Hermione!" his own voice called out in response.

Relaxing, Hermione turned, sitting half on the bed and looking back at him, "How did you know, Severus?"

He grinned, "Hermione, I've been dating for an awfully long time and in all my years, only one person has ever called me 'Babe.'" He shook his head at her, "I've heard it now from three women in as many nights. It didn't take too much cool-headed deduction to figure it out."

He wasn't mad at her and, for now, and that was enough for Hermione. She curled herself up and snuggled into his side, just letting herself sleep. It felt nice, for the first time in a long time, to want to be herself.

The next morning, however, she awoke to a cold and empty bed. She hadn't even managed to land on the pillows; she was face down on the black covered mattress, "Sev?" Grabbing the top sheet, Hermione twisted it into a pseudo-toga and wandered out into the kitchen looking for her host.

"Eggs?" He looked back at her, dressed in a pair of black jeans as he had the last time she'd seen him here. His hair was still damp from the shower he must have taken earlier.

Hermione nodded and tied the toga more securely around her so she could move. She sat down at the table where a cup of coffee was already waiting for her and watched him.

A few moments later, he brought two plates over and sat down near her, "Okay, Hermione. You've had your fun and I let you sleep, but now we have to talk."

He dream world now shattered, Hermione looked coldly up at him from her coffee, "Fine, just be quick about it. After all, I have to get back home to my husband."

Severus' face turned hard and he sneered at her, "Alright, fine. I only had one question, anyway. What on earth happened to turn Hogwarts' valedictorian into a Polyjuiced Whore?"

He'd been planning the question and knew what he'd expected: he'd expected Hermione to throw the eggs at him (thus why they were scrambled) or at least her cup of coffee (which was relatively cool in comparison to his own). Instead, the woman just threw her head back and laughed, "I guess that would be accurate."

He sat back and looked at her, sadly. She wasn't going to tell him what happened, "If you won't answer, at least tell me why you didn't come to Hogsmeade."

She laughed again, this time harder, "Because I was getting married that afternoon, you daft fool!" Hermione stood up and walked over to him, placing her hands on his shoulders, eggs untouched, "If you really want me, Severus, this is all you're going to get: a different girl in your bed every night. At least you can know that underneath it's always me."

Severus shook his head and broke back from her, "I can't do that, Hermione." In his own mind, though, he couldn't believe that he was actually say this to the only woman who made him burn like this.

"How can you help it, Sev?" She smirked, "You don't really have a choice. You've already picked up the habit of bringing these women home with you. You won't even know it's me until the next morning." Her eyes twinkled with a less-than-veiled mischief.

Severus stood up and grabbed her shoulder, shaking them roughly. Hermione's hip knocked the plate of eggs to the floor and they heard it smash, "For God's sake, Hermione! You're married!" He stepped back, feeling a little defeated, "This isn't something I can do."

"No." Hermione gathered the toga, which had unwound itself from her upper body. She twisted it over her shoulder and looked back at him as she headed to the bedroom for her clothes, "But I can."

Severus sunk limply into his kitchen chair, hands over his face. He couldn't believe that she had really asked him to sleep around with her behind Harry's back. Once was one thing, he was trying to prove something to her, but Snape had no desire to continue it.

Ten minutes later, Hermione walked out from the bedroom, now fully dressed. She leaned down and kissed his cheek. Her lips brushed against his ear (making him shiver), "I'll be waiting for you in the bar again tonight. Come join me, Sev. You know you want to." Her tongue flicked his earlobe before she turned and walked out. She was drunk on power and Severus' lack of resistance wasn't helping matters.

He watched her leave the apartment, saw her jogging down the stairs as the door closed slowly behind her. She was smiling as if nothing was wrong, _This isn't the girl I knew at Hogwarts. What happened to create such a monster?_

Hermione, for her part, was happily jogging home with a smile on her face. Too busy planning for that night, she missed the young man with shaggy hair leaning on the building and watching her. He'd seen her leave the apartment the night before and the night before that. He slipped in the door as it closed behind her and headed upstairs to apartment number 314.

A knock sounded minutes later on Severus' door as Ron leaned against it. The door swung open to show Ron a dark haired, haggard looking man who looked annoyed at the redhead's presence, "What are you doing here, Weasley? What do you want?"

Ron smirked, "I'm pretty sure that you can figure that out. It's not like we've ever talked about more than one thing." As if to punctuate his words, Ron's eyes wandered back over his right shoulder and down the steps that Hermione had recently trod.

Severus snarled slightly but said only, "Well?"

Ron looked back at Severus and leaned forward on the door jamb, "I do understand, Snape. Don't think that I don't." He crossed his arms, "I understand that you love her and that you want her. I understand that she's not happy, even if I'm not spending my time with her anymore. I understand too, however, that if someone doesn't tell Harry, my best friend is going to get his heart ripped out again when he finds the two of you together."

Snape watched the young man turn to leave. Ron looked back at his former Professor, "So, because I understand, I'm giving you a choice. Either one of you tell him or I will. He deserves at least that much, Snape. All he ever wanted was for his best friends to be happy." The redhead wandered slowly down the stairs as if he had nowhere to be.

Severus walked back to his kitchen table and looked around the room. Smashed plate on the floor with eggs spread across the tiles. There was cold coffee in mugs on the wooden tabletop. Was this really what he wanted to be left with every morning? An empty apartment and an emptier feeling in his gut?

With a sigh, Severus went through the motions of cleaning up: sweeping the plate into the garbage, throwing out the eggs and coffee, and scourgifying his dishes before putting them away.

He walked through the apartment to the false wall in his closet and, further, through there to his potions lab. It was charmed to look like his dungeons, usually a place of solace and comfort for the man. Today, however, it felt as empty and alone as the rest of his apartment. This wasn't going to do.


	8. Coming Clean

_**Coming Clean**_

The next night, Severus walked into the bar where he knew he'd find her. No matter what she looked like tonight, she'd come to him eventually. He ordered another gin and tonic from the bartended and perched himself on a barstool, waiting.

He wasn't disappointed when his eyes lit on a woman walking his way. She was curvier than usual, easily filling out the black crop top and pants she had on. There was a henna tattoo around her navel and she had immensely long, flaming red hair. She could've been a Weasley, "Hey, Babe." She smiled at him.

If her appearance did anything for Severus, it was to remind him why he was here and strengthen his resolve. He leaned in and let his lip flicker across her ear as his breath warmed it, "Come now, your roots are showing, love."

Hermione's hand flew to her hair to make sure it wasn't shortening. One of the side effects of the transformation no longer hurting was that it sometimes took her a while to know if she was changing back. Conscientious as always, she had (as she thought) nearly another hour before her next dose.

Severus smirked, "Good, now that I have your attention," He stood up and took the younger woman by the hand, leading her from the bar.

"Back home so soon, Babe?" Back in character, Hermione was quite pleased at his change of mind.

He grinned back at her, that dark smile suddenly reminded her she couldn't control this man like she could the other ones in her life, "In a manner of speaking. We're going to see your husband."

Hermione froze in place, wincing as her lack of movement caused Severus to grab tightly around her upper arm and drag her like a small child. Nobody in the bar seemed to pay any mind to the young woman who was being manhandled from the room. _I really need to hang out in classier bars_, "Severus, where are we going?" She tried to be a coquette, tried to assume that he was joking. She knew he wasn't and her voice trembled with the thought.

"We're going to your home." He didn't look back at her as they walked, "To see your darling husband, Hermione. The love of your short and passionate life." His voice was flat and cold now, no longer playing her games. He was in control.

Hermione's mind raced, searching for a reason, any reason at all why they couldn't see Harry, "But, Severus, he's practicing until 11. We could always try another night…" Her voice rose with the hope that he'd actually call off his little bout of coming clean.

Severus' eyes panned back to her, cold and dead, "Then we'll wait, won't we?"

He dragged her to her house, forced her to open the door and let him inside. That's when things became confused. Severus had no idea how she'd done it. One minute he was absolutely furious at her for forcing him to do this, putting him in this position, the next he had her shoved bodily against her bedroom wall. The tiny woman, finally wearing Hermione's own visage again, had seduced him. She hadn't really tried and he'd fallen for her again. Of course, it's not like he'd had a choice, right? _Stop making excuses for yourself, you wanted it as much as she did._

Hermione's arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him ever closer to her. She gasped out into the dark night as he bit her neck, causing her to squirm ever closer, "Please, Severus." She gasped between kisses as he raised his head. Her leg hooked up over his hip, drawing him further into her body.

A weary and stony faced Seeker was standing in the doorway to his bedroom. What he saw made him only more tired as a single thought pierced through the shock of his mind, _Déjà vu_.

Harry sat in the kitchen, listening to them, a cup of coffee in his dirty hand. He could barely stand to listen, but was too tired to do anything else. He heard her scream Snape's name over and over in a way that she'd never screamed for him. It sickened him to hear her call out _his_ name.

An hour later they walked out of the bedroom and found him, a still-full cup of now-cold coffee in his hand, a wooden expression was on his face. Severus looked between Hermione and her husband. He felt like a teenage kid getting caught by dad and braced himself for the Seeker's reaction.

Harry sighed, refusing to look at his wife. His eyes surveyed Snape wearily, "Fancy meeting you here, again."

Hermione could feel herself losing control of the situation. She bit her lip and looked at her husband, "Harry…" She placed a hand on his shoulder, which he twitched away irritably.

A sad look filled his eyes as he looked up at the woman he'd tried so hard to love and respect. The latter feeling now quite thoroughly shattered. He looked disappointed in her and, for once, she cared again that she had hurt him, "Why, Hermione? You promised me forever that day and I let you. I trusted you." He shook his head, "It's not like I haven't known what's been going on. You don't come home at night, there's the constant smell of Polyjuice in the house. Why didn't you just leave me when you had the chance?"

Severus looked confused at this and Harry smirked up at him, "Last year? You know, right before my wedding when you tried to seduce my fiancé in her bedroom? Remember? I do." Harry stood and reached for his bag, "You don't have to worry though, dear." He looked at his wife, "You don't have to leave this time." He slung the bag over his shoulder, "I am."

Twenty minutes later, Hermione sat in her kitchen, alone. They'd both left, one after the other. _You don't have to leave this time. I am._ She'd lost him, lost both of them.

Her stomach turned over as she slid to the floor. Severus had followed him out, shouting to wait up, to stop. They'd left her alone, there in the kitchen. A familiar voice cut through her silence like a knife, "Why'd you do it if it was just going to make you unhappy, Hermione?"

She didn't look up as he spoke to her. Red hair, however, invaded her peripheral and she turned away, "Go away, Ron." She felt tired all of a sudden, oh so tired.

She could hear the smirk on his young, freckled face, "Why did you marry him if you were just going to hurt him in the end?"

Hermione looked up at her once-friend, tears on her cheeks, feeling so full of herself that there was no room for anyone else, "It wasn't supposed to be like that, Ron. He was…" Her voice trailed off as she tried to figure out exactly what he was. There were'nt really any words for what Harry had been to her a year ago.

Ron took a chair and sat down near her, "He was easy, wasn't he, Hermione? Harry was willing to love you and that was enough. He was an easy escape."

She ran the back of her hand under her eyes as she looked up at him, "Yes, but it was more than that, Ron. He was willing to let me be in control. He didn't care as long as someone seemed to love him back."

Ron nodded, remembering how out of control his friend had felt when her parents were killed, "Either way, Hermione, you're going to have to do something. It isn't fair to him to just be the 'easy guy'."

Hermione nodded again, brushing away the remnants of her tears. _Who was he to lecture her on the easy way out?_ She'd had her contrition; she'd been reprimanded. When she looked back up at Ron, there was a hardness lodged behind her eyes, "What about you, Ron? How can you, in all your hypocrisy, stand there and tell me that I'm just using Harry and Severus?"

Ron's forehead wrinkled in a supposed confusion as he absently reached for the cup of cold coffee, "I don't know what you mean, Hermione." It wasn't like they'd been spending time together since Hogwarts. She didn't _know_ anything.

Hermione laughed heartily, too heartily, sneering slightly at her once-best-friend, "How is _she_ not just an easy way out for you?"

Ron's eyes flashed lightening in her direction, "Leave Luna out of this, Hermione. She doesn't deserve your wrath." He shook his head at the woman in front of him. How had he once placed her so high in his own estimation, "Anyway, you don't really know what you're talking about."

Hermione grinned. She'd struck a nerve, "Really? Does Luna know all the hours you spent standing outside my window with Sev?"

Ron sneered, "Yes."

An hour later, Ron stalked from the apartment. A hour's worth of conversation concerning Hermione's 'love life' had done nothing but increase the number of questions she'd shot back at him about Luna. She wasn't letting anyone get close to her now. It was like talking to a wounded wolf: she'd retreated emotionally to lick her wounds for a while.

Ron shook his head as he stalked back to his own place, _Luna knows. I told her. I told her everything about Severus and seventh year and that stupid hillock. _He sighed. Being a man of honour, it was one of the first things he'd told her when they became engaged.

Ron fondly fingered the ring he wore on a chain around his neck. He was in love with Luna, he really was, particularly after seeing Hermione again. She'd done more to knock herself off the pillar he'd set her on all those years ago than anyone else ever could.

Ron noticed lights flickering in his living room, lights he couldn't remember having left lit. He walked in and saw Severus and Harry sitting on his old bachelor couch, "How'd you two get in here?"

Harry, who had looked up when the door opened, smirked darkly, "We opened the unlocked door and walked in, Ron."

Ron turned then to his former professor with an almost pleading look, "Please, Snape, not now. We're all tired and this would be a bad time to try to do anything." He looked at them hopefully.

Severus raised an eyebrow at Ron (who hated him for his ability to do that), "Are you trying to say, Mr. Weasley, that you have nothing to do with this?"

Harry looked at Severus, "What is it you're trying to say, Snape?" He sunk back on the couch, not really sure he wanted to know what it was his past-teacher was trying to tell him.

"Do you want to know what happened with your wife?" Snape looked at Harry with interest.

Harry sunk deeper into the couch, his mind spinning with all the little things he wanted to know about Hermione. He wasn't altogether sure he wanted answers when he was quite honest with himself, "Do I?" He looked up at Snape, as if expecting him to answer the question.

Snape just laughed, a cold, dark, unamused sound, "That is for you to decide, Potter. It won't be pretty, but then illumination rarely is."

Ron, seeing that they were engaged in their own conversation, wandered out of the living room and into the adjoining kitchen, looking for something to do with his hand. He ended up spreading peanut butter on crackers and eating them until he heard his name again.

Severus' cold voice floated out of the nearby room, "Weasley, we're leaving."

Ron's head poked out of the kitchen, a bit of peanut butter still on his chin, "Where're you going?"

Severus raised an eyebrow, "To Hogwarts, Weasely. You're coming too."


	9. Memoriter

_**Memoriter**_

The popped into existence on the outskirts of the Hogwarts grounds, just outside the wards. For the first time in a long time this didn't feel like home to Snape. Quickly orienting himself, Severus began walking toward the dark, looming shape of Hogwarts Castle.

Harry tried his best to keep pace with the Potions Master's long legs, "Snape, why are we _here_?"

From somewhere behind them, Ron's face fell as he suddenly realised that his best friend had no idea about the hours he and Snape had spent watching from the grounds. His pace slowed even more as they approached the hillock and he saw Snape stop.

Severus looked back at Ron with an angered gaze before turning his eyes and wand to the Head Girl's window on the third floor, "Memoriter."

Harry's face scrunched more as if trying to remember the spell for himself. Snape's cold voice, however, cut into his thoughts, "The memory replication spell, Potter. Did you never pay attention in Professor Flitwick's classes?"

Harry's face lifted as he remembered. He'd accidentally used it one night when he'd had nightmares about living in the Dursleys and replayed part of his third birthday for the rest of his dorm. Needless to say, the guys had never mentioned it again.

As he looked up to what was once Hermione's window, Harry could see a light glowing there. Snape could see the horrified look spreading across his face as he watched Severus' own memories: seeing Harry moving on top of Hermione as he had almost every night of their seventh year.

It was impossible for the Seeker to take his eyes away from them, "You could see us from here?" Getting no response, he glanced momentarily at Snape, "Every night?"

Severus nodded, "Every night we'd come out here and watch from this god-forsaken hillock." He scowled as Ron finally joined them, refusing to look up, "Look." He commanded both.

Six eyes turned to the window as another turned down at them. Hermione gazed out the window, down at them. Harry saw himself take her as she continued to look down at them. This time the scream made no noise as the memory opened its mouth. The memory of Hermione suddenly began convulsing under his other-self's body.

As the memory faded, Harry continued to stare at the window. He could feel himself moving, ever so slowly, to that place where emotion no longer mattered, "It was you."

"Or Weasley." Snape shrugged slightly from behind the shorter man.

Harry, finally turning again from the window, looked up at Snape. There was no hatred in his voice, only certainty, "It was you."

Appearing back in London not long after, Harry turned to Snape, "Thank you." He seemed cold, as if the cold had seeped into his very soul. He walked in a direction that would take him they knew not where and disappeared into the dark of the summer night.

Ron turned to Snape, trying to seem more confident than he felt, "Well, that went well. Didn't it?" He looked up hopefully.

Severus, however, was more than disgusted with the redhead, "Because you're a coward, Weasley."

Ron nodded and they began to walk, "Well, you would be too, you know. If it was _your _best friend you'd been watching all that year…" He trailed off, nothing more to say to excuse himself.

"It was, Weasley." Snape looked straight ahead, his face drawn, "It just wasn't him I had that connection with."

Ron looked up at Severus. He was confused and it was quite plain. Everything Ron ever felt seemed to be written across his face.

On the other side of London, Hermione was no longer sitting at her kitchen table. Sometime that night she had risen and found her wand. Now, wand in hand, clothed in her oldest, softest white nightgown, multi-coloured charms flashed in front of her. On the other side of London, Hermione destroyed her potions lab.

After leaving Weasley. Severus wandered a while on his own and eventually found himself outside her flat. He could smell the acrid smoke and saw the light flashing from her basement. It didn't take much to figure out what was going on.

Later that night, as the sun slowly came up through the London haze, Snape paced alone in his little apartment. He'd done his duty as he'd sworn to himself he would. He'd shown Potter: come clean and told the truth.

As he approached one of his shelves, Severus' hand found a small, empty cauldron. Gripping it, the Potions Master turned and hurled it into another cabinet stocked full of bottles.

As he watched months worth of work stain his carpet, Severus turned and headed through the false wall in his closet. _To hell with it._ He gathered things quickly, stuffing a small leather bag with what he knew she'd be needing. Soon enough, she was going to need _him_; neither Potter nor Weasley had any idea what was really coming and it wasn't going to be a pretty sight.


	10. A Helping Hand

_**A Helping Hand**_

He was going to do his duty, no matter that he was sure she wouldn't let him help her. It wasn't like he deserved the chance, anyway. He'd been no prince the last time he'd seen her. He was no Potter, after all.

Standing outside her flat, bag clasped tightly in his hand, Snape looked up at the window where he could see her, "Hermione!"

She looked down at him from her perch in the window, a dark look on her face, "Leave me alone, Severus." Her face was drawn, "I don't want you now." She shook her head in a decided way, "I don't want you ever again." Pulling her head back into the window, she left him alone on the stoop.

It didn't last, though. A week later, the Potions Master was sitting on her bed with his arms gently around her. An old, faded quilt kept them warm as he held her lovingly. It might have been the perfect romantic scene if someone had remembered candles and merlot.

Oh, but there was that one drawback. That one where Hermione's body was shaking uncontrollably (sadly not from an influx of passion) and there was a cold sweat beading all over her body. Her hands twitched compulsively for her wand and for bottles that were long since empty or destroyed.

Severus rubbed his hands vigorously over her body, trying desperately to warm her. Withdrawal was a bitch as Snape knew well enough. Hermione wasn't the first person he'd helped through it, but he hoped she'd be the last.

Somewhere inside that weak and trembling body, however, Hermione's mind was still as sharp as ever. She stood back and could see everything clearly for once, the wreck she'd created of herself. She remembered why she'd done it in the first place, why she'd taken it. It wasn't that she was weak, as many people seemed to think, it was the need for control. She needed to feel something she didn't feel and touch something she wasn't supposed to. It was the desire to hold a modicum of control in a world that had spun out of orbit when her parents were killed.

Hermione could still step away from it all and see herself there on the bed, shaking heavily in his arms. She was helpless and frail there in his strong grip. She could still feel the pain though, that need that had eventually driven her. It hurt like hell; it was oppressive. Seeing herself there in his arms, though, Hermione almost wished she would get better so she could stay there forever.

He spent a week taking care of her: a week sitting there holding her, taking care of her, caring for her. Severus was pretty sure it was one the most enjoyable times he'd ever had, despite her withdrawal.

A soft knock sounded at her front door one afternoon while, for the first time, she was sleeping heavily (thank Merlin). He wouldn't heard it if Snape hadn't set WatchDog Charms on the front steps.

He glanced quickly down at Hermione to make sure she was still asleep before heading to the door. He caught a flash of red hair through the window before opening the door. Ron.

"What do you want, Weasley?" Supposedly, both Ron and Harry knew about Hermione's condition and had kept away during the last week. Severus was annoyed at the redhead for pulling him away from Hermione's bed, a bed he'd so far only shared with her in sickness.

Ron's hand extended something toward Severus, "Harry asked that I give these to you. They're for Hermione once she's better."

Severus' eyes grew cold as they swept over the roll of parchment before looking up at Ron, "He does know what's going on, right?"

Ron nodded shamefacedly, "He said Hermione would want them once she was well enough to want anything." He turned and left shamefully.

Severus looked again at the scroll. His eyes fixed on the words at the top of the unrolling parchment: **_Ministry of Magic Divorce Proceedings_**

Walking back into the flat, Severus felt numb. It didn't mean anything to him, at least that's what he tried to tell himself. It was her decision and hers alone.

His eyes moved to the sleeping form on the bed and his mind swept across the different things he'd learned this last week. He'd been forced to do some basic diagnostics on the young woman on the bed to decide the best course of action. He wouldn't have been able to take care of her properly if he hadn't.

Severus sat on the bed and looked hard at her. She was lying on her back in a pair of flannel pants and a sports bra. His hand moved of its own volition to her stomach and rested there, rubbing small circles in a way he'd found tended to comfort her.

He'd give her the paper in the morning. Polyjuice, while it could become highly addictive, was easier to kick than a lot of addictions. Apart from a few lingering head spins from time to time, Hermione would be better soon. She'd find out that her husband wanted a divorce and, unless Severus was highly mistaken, give it to him. Snape, however, had no idea how to tell the young woman that she was pregnant.


	11. When One Door Closes

**A/N**__Thank you so much to everyone for your reviews! I'm finally finishing the story. There's just one more mini-chapter after this. As a thanks to Fairy of Fire and Fury for her reviews and so that she can chill after Calc tomorrow, I present you with another chapter! Also, so that people know, there is a different version of this chapter featuring a higher rating with more graphic content. It is available upon request.

* * *

_**When One Door Closes**_

Severus took his cloak from the back of a chair in her room and left the house that night for the first time in a week, the roll of parchment in his hand. Quietly, the Potions Master made his way to the hotel he knew Potter had been living in since the separation from his wife.

He was greeted at the door by a tired, but sober looking Seeker. Good. This would have been a great deal more difficult if Potter had been drunk, "I wanted to speak with you about this." Severus proffered the Divorce Proceedings to Harry.

Harry stepped out of the way and let his former professor enter, "She's going to want it, isn't she?" His eyebrows went up at the question as if it were not a question at all.

Severus nodded as he sat in an exceedingly uncomfortable (and pink) hotel chair, "Yes, I believe she is. That's not why I'm here."

Harry closed the door and leaned languidly against the frame. Snape had been the last person he'd expected to see tonight. He'd figured the Potions Master would be dancing for joy at the prospect of Hermione's impending divorce. He waved a hand as if suggesting that Snape get on with it.

"I wanted to give you all the facts before you decided that Hermione should receive this scroll." Severus looked at the room around him. Wasn't Potter quite wealthy? Why was he living in a place like this? Probably so he could wallow…

Looking back up, Snape saw Potter waving him on again, "Hermione's pregnant."

Harry could feel the cold invading him. It could be anyone's, right? She'd slept with enough of them, "And?"

Severus raised his eyebrows, "And it's yours."

Harry barked out a snide laugh, "How can you tell?"

"You never did pay attention in my classes, did you?' Snape shook his head, "No matter. Just know that I can. The move is yours, Potter. What do you want to do?"

Harry stared at Severus. This really wasn't something he'd seen coming. Once again, he was reminded by just how young he was, just nineteen. He should've known better than to get married so soon, but he'd so desperately wanted a wife, a real family finally. Hermione would be twenty in a few months…

He looked sharply at the Potions Master, "Do you love her, Severus?"

Snape nodded without even needing to think about the question, "Yes."

"What are you going to do when this is all finished if Hermione and I divorce?"

Severus leaned back in his chair and eyed the Seeker, "Marry her, if she'll let me."

There was a frankness about his teacher that Harry could not ignore, "Tell her it's yours, Severus. Tell her that the Infertilis didn't work or something."

Snape's brow wrinkled, "What are you saying, Potter?"

Harry leaned forward from his spot on the door, "I want you to take my child, if you're willing, and raise it as your own. Do I need to be more clear than that?" His eyebrows went up, opening honest, green eyes to Snape.

Severus shook his head, "No. You don't." He rose and walked over to Potter, his hand extended.

Harry took it, shaking it once before opening the door, "Take good care of her, Severus. I never wanted things to turn out like this."

Severus nodded and left. He spent a long time walking the streets in London that night, thinking. He watched the moon finish rising and then set and the sun begin to take its place before he returned to Hermione.

He found her where he had left her, curled on the bed, still sleeping. His entrance, however, woke her, "Severus?" She looked up, her eyes wide and unseeing for a moment, reminding him of a child.

"I'm here, Hermione." He moved to the bed and sat beside her, slowly running his fingers through her thick, messy curls, "Are you feeling better, Love?"

She nodded and reached for him, "Hold me?"

Standing, Severus moved to a chair and took his black pajama pants, changing into them before sliding into the bed behind her. He wrapped his arms protectively around her small body, a hand resting on her bare stomach. They fell asleep like that, waking hours later only from hunger.

Severus accio'd a few muffins and apples from the kitchen for them to eat. Somewhere in the midst of their repast, he produced the scroll for her, letting her now active mind pore over the terms set, "It's pretty basic…" It was wonderful to see the beginnings of health in her.

She nodded, crumbs falling onto the page as she read, "He gave this to you? It's what _he_ wants?"

Severus nodded, "Weasley brought it."

"Ron." Hermione corrected automatically before reaching for a fountain pen in the bedside table. She quickly signed her name at the bottom next to where Harry had already done so, "Now what?"

"Tomorrow, or later today, you take it to the Ministry to be processed." Snape wasn't looking at her, but instead down at the paper that had suddenly made her fair-game.

"And after that?" She raised her eyebrows to Severus leaning in close to him.

"After that?" He seemed almost confused, "After that it's up to you. You can do whatever you want."

Hermione nodded, thinking deeply for a moment. Severus noticed an adorable little wrinkle forming between her eyebrows. He leaned in and kissed it, "Not too hard. You're still getting better."

Hermione, however, pulled his face down and kissed him soundly, "I want you, then."

"Me?" He was almost amused at her girlish frankness.

"Yes." She nodded and kissed him again, "If you'll have me."

Snape grinned and leaned in, taking her chin in his fingers, "If you'd have waited, there's a ring in my pants pocket over there for you, if you want it." He grinned mischievously and leaned across her body, "But now you're going to have to wait for it."

No more words were spoken for a long while between them (well, none that count, anyway). Severus took her gently into his arms and kissed her, trying without words to tell her how much he loved her and would take care of her.

They made love to each other that afternoon. It seemed like forever and yet, somehow, forever came so quickly. There was no violence this time, no hateful words to look forward to. It felt like healing to Hermione. It felt good. She could feel her strength slowly returning to her body as her hands roamed across the expanse of his pale back and through his thick hair.

Finally, both exhausted and after having caught his breath, Severus pulled away from her, resting on one elbow as he wiped hair and sweat from her forehead, "I love you, Hermione."

Smiling, she looked up at him, "I've waited so long to hear that."


	12. Epilogue

Epilogue 

Hermione Granger-Potter became Hermione Snape two months later in a double wedding with Ron Weasley and Luna Lovegood-Weasley. A reviewer from the Daily Prophet commented that both couples were laughing and excited on the big day. Future plans for the new Mrs. Snape included doing graduate work at Beauxbatons Academy the next year after the birth of her daughter.

A little less than nine months later, tiny Jane Elizabeth Snape arrived. Hermione, holding her baby girl, was glad that she'd been able to pass on her mother's name to the tiny child. She was, however, quite surprised at the frequent visits of 'Uncle Harry' to play with the little girl. She also noted for the first time how well he and Severus seemed to get along together.

Hermione began her graduate work in Potions at the Academy the next year and graduated with highest honours. Life, it would seem, was finally turning around.


End file.
